A deal with the devil
by Darcy Lovette
Summary: Ste couldn't let Brendan die. So when escaped, revenge crazed psychopath Walker threatens the life of the man who'd been a father to him, Ste makes the ultimate sacrifice to save him. (AU where Ste is a teenager whose alcoholic mother left him in the care of Brendan Brady from the age of eight) Possible Triggers: Non-con, child abuse, blackmail and m/m
1. Chapter 1

The day I turned sixteen was the day everything turned to shit.

It's not as though I had everything together in the first place, truth be told, but before that day those broken shards had some hope of being fixed.

I really didn't want anybody to make a big fuss over today or act as if it was some kind of accomplishment. "Congratulations, you're going to die, now have some cake!" didn't seem like much cause for celebrations.

Among other things, that was why I was lucky to have Brendan.

He never makes a huge deal of birthdays; he didn't shower you with affections and novelty gifts like huge buttons.

He began that day like he began every other.

At 6:30am. Sharp.

Bang bang bang, "Steven? Up, now!" the Irish man yelled through my door, rudely awaking me from a rare dreamless sleep.  
I mumbled something unintelligent into the pillow, probably along the lines of 'get lost I'm sleeping'.  
"If ye not up in ten ye can drive ye-self to school!" He banged again.  
"Gimme a minute, alright!" I yelled, sitting up and rubbing bed from my eyes, "Thought you were supposed to be nice to me today!"  
"Ye not dying, are ye?"  
"... I could be!"  
"Well, yeh still going to school." He gave the door a final bang before hurrying away, his footsteps creaking on the floorboards.

I was up and awake approximately eleven minutes later.  
Dragging my half asleep self into the kitchen, I expecting a bollocking for the extra minute of sleep I felt I'd earned, but instead found a plate of pancakes, hot and buttery beside a small pile of red presents waiting for me in the kitchen.  
"Bren, I said I din't want any fuss..." I said, though my stomach growled at the sight of them.  
"Don't be ungrateful, just eat the damn things." He retorted over the rim of his coffee mug.  
Now there was an order I didn't feel like ignoring. I fell into my chair and attacked them with a fork, watching the butter drip onto the plate as I cut into them, "I never knew you could cook."  
"Whatcha talking about, Steven? I cook all the time."  
"Toast and bacon doesn't count, Brendan."  
He scoffed, "Englishmen..."  
I ate up the surprisingly tasty pancakes, looking over the stack of presents beside me. A few cards rested on top, hidden away inside their envelopes. On one I recognized Brendan's handwriting, another Aunt Cheryl's (she wasn't my real Aunt, but she loved to make a fuss over me whenever she was over and loved it when I called her Aunt). The third was probably from Cheryl's friend Lyndsay, but I dared to hope. "Did, my er... mum send anything?"  
Brendan took a little too long to swallow his coffee, "... No, Steven. She hadn't."  
Of course she didn't. She hadn't contacted me in eight years, why would she start now by spending her precious booze money on a card for her son? I shrugged, trying to act as if I didn't care. I ate another bite of pancakes, studying to shapes of the presents. I could feel Brendan was watching me,  
"... Wanna open ye cards? Save the presents till ye home from school."  
I nodded, wiped my fingers on my panama bottoms and grabbed the one with Aunt Cheryl's swirly handwriting. The card itself was much like her, bold, bright and colourful. Huge letters demanded I had a happy birthday, while multicoloured balloons danced around it. I opened it, two tenners fell out.

"Happy birthday, babe!  
Have a fantastic day! Still can't believe you're 16!  
Hope Bren gets you lots of presents (I'll have a word with him if he doesn't!) for your special day! All grown up now!  
Lots of love, Cheryl xxxxx"

The next was a simpler card, cream with the words 'have a great birthday' next to a present.

"Dear Ste,  
Hope you have a good day and an even better year!  
Love Lyndsay xxx"

The final one must have been from Brendan. I pulled it from the envelope and looked it over. It was a picture of the Dublin pier. Feeling a little confused, I opened it and three plane tickets fell onto my lap.

"Dear Steven,  
Hope this makes up for last year's camping trip. How was I to know you hated camping?  
Have a good one, Brendan."

He snatched the tickets up as I went to hold them, "Hey, clean ye fingers first! These cost a fortune, ye know!"  
I stared up at him, grinning like an idiot, "We're going to Dublin?"  
"That's right, Steven. This weekend, you, me and yeh Aunt Cheryl. She booked the BnB, so don't go blaming me if it's bright pink or anything."  
I could feel myself bouncing but I couldn't stop, "Dublin! We're going to Dublin!"  
"Ye don't have to tell me, Steven, I booked the damn things."  
I swallowed down the remaining pancake, jumping up and practically running to my room. I was so excited I thought I might bring the pancakes back up again.  
As I pulled on my uniform I glanced over my Man U calendar; it was Tuesday. Never had the weekend seemed to long away.  
As I came out to cross to the bathroom. Brendan was still sipping his coffee, leaning against a counter while reading over an unfolded newspaper with one hand.  
"Tuck that shirt in before I staple it to yeh ass, Steven." He called after me, not looking up.  
"That's child abuse!"  
He looked up from his paper at that. He was giving me that death stare of his, the one that went right through your skin. "Tuck it in, Steven." He repeated quietly, and went back to his paper. I daren't disobey when he used that voice.

The drive to school was at best awkward. Brendan barely spoke (save some angry swearing at passing drivers) and wouldn't let me turn on the radio, claiming he have a headache. I passed the time by staring out the window of the surprisingly expensive car (he told me it was a gift from an old friend), thinking about those red presents back on the kitchen table. I wondered if Cheryl had gotten me another jumper, or whether Brendan had gotten me the new COD game I'd been asking for. It took years of begging for him to lend me the money to get my PS3, but he still insists that his old Nintendo 64 was better. No wonder he wanted to raise me, he was such a _dad_.

From the moment he dropped me off outside Hollyoaks Secondary School, everything went back to normal. Nobody spoke to me, let alone wish me a happy sodding birthday. I knew my place within those walls and I knew what everyone thought of me.

I'd heard the whispers.

'Look! That's Ste Hay' 'I hear his mum's an alcoholic and can't even look after him' 'He lives with that Brady guy' 'He's such a moron, bet he can't even spell his own name' 'Fucking chavs like him should be shot'.

Within those walls I was Ste the chav, who never tries in class and will end up just like his mum. That's who they wanted me to be, somebody to judge and laugh about to make themselves feel better. So that's who I became.

Sob story aside, I couldn't really complain about that day. Everyone kept their distance, nobody spat on me and the teachers didn't call on me to answer questions. By my standards that makes a pretty good day. Must have been a birthday miracle.

That was until the day ended and I had to go back to Brendan's.

Brendan normally arrived home about fifteen minutes after me on Tuesdays, so I had to walk home. I swapped my bag from shoulder to shoulder as I walked, my back stinging painfully from the strain of all my books. As I passed through the road to Brendan's, my eyes still rested on my mum's council house. I couldn't help wondering what she'd be doing right now. I wanted to believe she was studying for some online course or finally taking control of her drinking in the hopes her son would come home to her. Of course she wouldn't be... she probably hadn't realized I'd stopped coming home. Brendan used to come around all the time, to make sure my mum was still alive. When I was six, he'd invite me around after school to give me a hot meal and help me with my homework. When I was eight, he told me that, if I wanted to, I could live with him. I agreed. I'm sixteen now, and my mum has yet to even try my mobile.

I passed the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mum through the permanently closed curtains, and hurried across the room to Brendan's place. The first thing I noticed was that the door was ajar, like it had been forced open. My heart froze and my blood ran cold, had we been robbed?

I shoved open the door and ran into what used to be the living room. The sofa was torn apart with what must have been knives, the chairs and tables smashed and tipped over. The walls were stripped bare of the decor, the TV lay in parts all over the floor. I could feel myself trembling, my legs threatening to give way. I stumbled into the kitchen and found it in just as bad condition. Among the rubble, unconscious and battered, was Brendan Brady, laying among the trashed remains of what was once his home.


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even think. The world had gone into slow motion, like everything was underwater. As I stared down at the limp form of the man I thought of as a father, whose face was bruised and bleeding, I couldn't tell whether the he was breathing or not.

_No... please, just be unconscious... you can't be dead, you can't you can't you can't!_

I watched, helpless, as he gave a weak cough, his eyelids twitching. I fell down by his side, ignoring the broken glass and plates which threatened to pierce my skin.  
I grabbed onto his arm; my eyes were wide and threatened tears, "Brendan! Brendan, it's me, Ste! Wake up, it's okay now! It's over, wake up!" I yelled hysterically, my breathing rapid and uneven.  
"St-Steven..." he groaned croakily, his eyes flickering open just slightly.  
"That's right, Bren, it's me, Ste. S-someone broke in..."  
"No, Steven… not just someone..." he almost laughed, heaving himself up. I kept hold of his arm, he looked like he could collapse again at any moment.  
"Shh," I hushed him, brushing debris from his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later I managed to get him sat down on a dining chair, the only one left standing. I gave him some water in a chipped glass, but the pain was causing him to tremble so bad I had to hold it steady while he took tiny sips.

"Brendan, what happened?" I eventually asked him, kneeling down.  
He looked at me for a while, his eyes apparently studying my face. It was a while before he spoke.

He'd driven back to the house after he'd realized he left his wallet, only to find three masked men inside, tearing house apart. Instead of calling the police, he tried to stop them himself. Typical Bren. Only one of the men hit him over the head with something hard and blunt, and that was all he remembered.

When he finished talking I gave a long sigh, standing up to survey the damage. What struck me as odd was that nothing had been stolen, just trashed. Only one thing seemed to be missing...  
"Bren... your 64..."  
He shook his head, "They didn't steal that..."  
"Then where-"  
"I sold it."  
"What?"  
He chuckled, "How do ye think I paid for those?" he asked, gesturing to the table. Three torn up plane tickets lay upon it.  
I stared down at them, feeling my heart sinking to my stomach. "... W-we can fix them, r-right? Or get a refund, something... right?"  
He chuckled again, though there was no humour in his eyes, "No, Steven... it's too late to get a refund now..."  
At that moment all I wanted to do was cry. Just sit down and sob like a pathetic child until the hole in my chest and lump throat went away. Brendan sold one of his most prized possessions to pay for a family trip we'd never get to go on, his home lay in ruins around him, the home he'd raised me in. The man I cared for more then anything else in this world had lost so much in a single day, and _that_ broke my heart the most.  
I was still fighting the uncontrollable urge to cry so hard that I didn't notice him stand, cross the room and pull the sofa back up. It was torn, but seemed to be fine. He fell down onto it, calling my name. My body was trembling but I went to him, falling down beside him. I heard him sigh as he slipped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him.

"It's okay, Steven..." he whispered, fingers touching my hair.  
My eyes burned as the tears fell. No... This wasn't fair... Brendan shouldn't be the one comforting _me_! _He_ was the one who'd lost so much, why was _I_ crying and being held? "It's not... it's not okay!" I couldn't hide the tremble in my voice or the lump in my throat.  
"You're safe, Steven. That's all that matters to me." His voice was low, for a moment I swear it trembled too, "Yeh safe... for now."  
I sniffed and rubbed my eyes, looking up at him, "W-what do you mean?"  
He sighed. The hand touching my hair moved down across my cheek, catching a tear that came to rest there. "Steven... there's something I never told ye. I swore I never would, I've left that life behind now, I swear. But... I don't think I can avoid it now."  
My heart was beating so quickly I worried I might not have enough oxygen to sustain it, "Bren...?"  
"Shortly after ye came to live with me, I... started having a lot of money issues. The club wasn't bringing in as much as it was spending and I was... getting desperate. Cheryl had no idea, she still doesn't. So... I started selling drugs to pay off the dept. I did this for a few years until the big man said he wanted to use me for this heist. It was so much money, Steven... it would pay off all my dept. I was paired up with this guy, this... Walker, but... when we were in there, everything started to go wrong. We'd done everything right, but the police arrived right before we could leave. We were about to escape when Walker fell, yelling that he'd twisted his ankle. I could hear them coming… the police, yelling for us to give ourselves up. So... I ran... and I left him. He screamed after me, swearing he'd get me... but I couldn't stop, couldn't look back. I got away, and the next day he was sent down for five years. He never knew my name, so I thought I was safe. I got his share of the money and everything was fine."  
I stared at him; feeling like everything I knew about Brendan was being twisted and rewritten.  
He gave another sigh, "This was five years ago, Steven. A man can forget a lot of things in five years, but not this. He's out, Steven. He's coming to kill me."  
I felt my head shaking rapidly, my chest felt like my heart was having a seizer, "No... no, no... no... no! We can run, we can! Just move somewhere else, Brendan!"  
"Steven..."  
"He won't hurt you! He won't, he won't... we have to run!"  
"Steven!" he barked, silencing me. "_We_ are not running anywhere. _You_ are going with your Aunt Cheryl. _I'm_ leaving..."  
I felt like my world was collapsing, "No, don't say that..."  
"It's the only way."  
"No, it isn't!"  
"I can't let him hurt ye."  
"Brendan, please!"  
"I said no!" He pushed me away and stood, taking long, deep breaths. I brought up my legs and curls into a shaking ball, sobbing horribly. I couldn't lose Brendan, the man who saved me, the man who fed me when my mother couldn't, the man who gave me a home, a life, a chance. Brendan was the only family I had, and I couldn't bare the idea of sitting alone in Cheryl's apartment, not knowing whether the most important thing in my life was dead or alive.

He ignored all my arguments, all my protests. The few things I had left were bundled into a bag and thrown into the boot of Brendan's car. He almost had to force me, crying and screaming, into the passenger seat.

For the rest of the journey I watched the road in silence, tears drying on my cheeks. I was too tired to keep arguing, and I knew that it wouldn't be worth it. It was impossible to change Brendan's mind when he'd made it up.

He'd made up his mind a long, long time ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: Hi :D Sorry this chapter is so short, but I'm drowning in my college work and wanted to give you all a nice cliff-hanger to go out on. I am the child of Moffat. Mwa ha ha. Some of you have messaged some queries:**

**Ste's narrative isn't in character at all: That's because this is adult Ste telling the story, all will be revealed.  
Why didn't Ste call an ambulance: Because it never crossed his mind. He allowed panic to take over his being and that stopped any rational thinking.  
How did Brendan know Ste's mom: All will be revealed  
Where's Walker?!: Arriving very, very soon, my dears ;)**

That night I endured the worst night's sleep I'd ever had.

Just when I'd be dropping off to sleep, suddenly everything would come crashing down on me, like a huge wave. I was suffocating, almost drowning... I never realized how much I needed Brendan just to stay afloat.

But Brendan was gone now.

He'd dropped me off outside Cheryl's before locking the doors and driving away, my desperate pleas for him to stay or take me with him fell on deaf ears. The sounds of his car growing fainter as it drove away seemed stuck on repeat in my mind, and no matter what I did I couldn't stop it. The gentle roar, the gravel being thrown around under the wheels, then silence.

He didn't wait around, didn't stay just for one more night.

I told Cheryl we'd been robbed and that Brendan was staying in a hotel. She proceeded to make such a fuss I almost wanted to sleep on the lawn.

"But what if you'd been _home_!" She cried for the hundredth time, "What if they'd hurt you, babe! You could have been killed!"  
"Aunt Cheryl, I'm fine." I replied for the hundredth time, wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of tea in my hands, "I was at school, I told you."  
"Oh, love, you could have been home ill... oh, what an awful thing to happen on your birthday!" She cooed, touching my cheek, "Did they take everything? Even your presents?"  
"Yeah..." I nodded, "They tore up the plane tickets too."  
She groaned in frustration, standing up from the sofa, "Oh, no, now I'll have to ring the BnB to cancel! Oh, I hate long distance calls..." She turned back to me, "Oh, love, I'm sorry. Listen to me complaining after what you and Bren have been through." She looked close to tears.  
"It's fine, Aunt Cheryl. I just wanna go to bed…" It had grown dark by the time we'd set off for Cheryl's, all the events of the day had left me physically and mentally drained.  
"Of course, pet. There's a bed made upstairs, on the left." She smiled, helping me stand.

The guest room was the only room in the whole house which wasn't so bright and colourful it produced constant migraines. Whilst refreshing, it only made me long to be back in my room at Brendan's even more. I missed my football calendar, the posters, the clutter and the dust. This room was way too clean, too formal, too organised to feel like home.

I reached into my bag for my sleep things, when something cold and translucent rubbed against my fingertips. I caught it and pulled it from the bag. It was a small, square box, wrapped in red paper. As I held it my legs felt weak and I had to sit down, holding this box as if it were a priceless treasure.  
He'd saved one... just one, a small one. This tiny present managed to somehow survive the ambush, and Brendan found it.  
My fingers shook as I peeled off the cello tape, removing the box from within the paper. Inside the box was a small cross on a thin, very fine silver chain. I hooked the chain over my finger and held it up, studying it closer to the light. I lowered it into my palm; it was cold against my skin, the cross no bigger than my little finger.

From the moment it touched my skin, it seemed to spark a memory in my brain.

I was young, maybe six or seven. A little boy crying, all alone in his room, blisters producing on the tiny hand he'd burned on a hot kitchen pipe. Where was mummy to keep him away? She was downstairs, sleeping off the hangover that not even her child's weeping could disturb. Footsteps were approaching the door where he wept, somebody knocked softly, calling out his name. Not mummy, but a man. The door opened and the man with a moustache sat down beside him, asking what the matter was. He'd showed this man his blistered hand, crying too hard to tell him about the pipe. The man reached around his neck and pulled off the metal cross which hung there, pressing it into the boy's palm. It was cold and soothed some of the pain. He let the little boy hold the cross in his palm while he ran some cold water in the sink, cleaning the wound with a flannel. When he stopped crying, he took him out for a McDonalds.

That cross now rested in my sixteen year old palm, silver against the white marks the burns left on the skin. The reality that Brendan wouldn't be here to take care of me anymore was crushing, like a heavy weight on my chest, choking my heart and pushing air from my lungs. I was too tired to keep dwelling on this, too weak to allow the weight to grow heavier on my heart. I knocked the bag off my bed and climbed fully clothed under the covers, clutching the cross in my hand. Between quiet sobs of anguish and silent mourning for the father I'd lost that day, I wasn't sure when sleep finally claimed me.

All I remember is I found myself very rudely awakened by a loud bang, followed by rough hand around my neck around my soft throat.

Before I had a chance to scream, something that felt like a wet handkerchief was pressed against my face, blocking my mouth and nose.

Everything began to spin, and then went black once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note: hello my lovelies, you're looking rather beautiful today. That outfit makes your eyes look all sparkly: 3**

**I've had a couple of questions since the last chapter, and here be the answers!**

**How old is Brendan?: Mid thirties. **

**Stendan?: The Stendan you shall witness will be unlike any Stendan you have witnessed before. So stay tuned for that if nothing else :D**

**Tumblr?: I have two! My AU Tumblr (a-whole-new-au) and my general nerdy-cry-about-TV-shows Tumblr (remembersoufflegirl). I post regular updates on both, as well as some of my other stuff (which is mostly Klaine and Johnlock)**

Everything was total blackness, everything spinning into it as I felt myself falling to the floor, sinking into a dark whirlpool of unconsciousness.

Soon enough, however many minutes or hours later, I came around, feeling groggy and drowsy, like I'd just woken up from a nap. I could taste chemicals on my tongue. My eyes flickered open gradually to reveal a dim-lit room, with a cheap bed in the corner and an old dresser beside me. It took several moments for me to realize it was a hotel room, and a crappy one at that. The wallpaper was pealing and damp crept along the ceiling. I inhaled, but all I could smell was the chemicals which clung to my lips and nose.

I was alone, or so it seemed.

The wooden chair I had woken in was stiff and uncomfortable, but I didn't have the strength to move myself. I thought of Brendan.  
'Brendan, yes…' my mind soothed through the fog which clouded it, 'He must have come back for me… he came back… Brendan came back for me…'

"Brendan… B-Brendan!"

Panic surged through me, urging me to stand. Only when I couldn't did I realize my hands and feet were bound tight, restricting any movement. Fear cut through my chest like a knife, piercing through my out of control heart as it climbed up my throat.

"Brendan!" I cried out again, struggling against my bonds like a pig tied for slaughter, "Brendan! Brendan, where are you!"

"Brendan isn't here, Steven." Came a cold, quiet voice from somewhere in the room. Blood turned to ice in my veins.

A figure came into view; his lank, brown hair pulled back by either gel or grease, cold eyes sunk into his head, untidy stubble on his cheeks. His presence made the room turn very, very cold and very still. "He can't help you now."

I found myself transfixed on his eyes, like a cobra, waiting to strike, "… Where is he?"  
"I wish I knew, Steven." The man's voice was so calm, almost friendly, it only made me want to get away from him more, "But I will, soon… now I have you…"  
"Who are you?" I demanded, but there was no hiding the tremor in my voice.  
He grinned, "An old friend, hoping to rekindle the flame."  
"No… no, you're lying!" Suddenly, the terrible, horrifying truth seeped into my mind like a poisonous gas, "You… y-you're him… you're Walker!"  
The smile remained, but whether Walker's eyes betrayed amusement or rage I could not tell, "So, told you all about me, has he? Told you about how he threw me to the lions, protecting his own precious skin?" he spoke slowly, carefully, voice rising with every word, the last of which rang painfully in the air.  
"… Y-yes… yes, he… he did say, actually." I stammered, hoping to appear braver then I actually felt.  
His stare grew harder, his smile fading, "Then I need no further introductions, then." He began to walk towards me; each step which creaked on the cheap floorboards sent a ripple of fear through me. "Allow me make this easy for you. _You_ are going to tell me where Brendan Brady is, and in return, _you_ will continue to live. Do I make myself clear?"  
Bile rose in my throat, "I-I don't know… I don't know where he is. And anyway, if I did, why the hell should I tell you? You're just some… freak!"  
A flash of anger lit up his eyes, "Steven… lets not say anything we might end up regretting. I am going to find out where Brady is hiding…" his hand began to withdraw from his pocket, a gun held tightly within it, "… one way or another. Your death will mean less then nothing to me…"

I wasn't listening. All I could see was a gun, pointing directly at my chest. All it'd take way a twitch of his finger… one wrong move… one wrong answer…  
"I'll ask you _one more time_, Steven. Where. Is. Brendan. Brady?"  
My words were stuck in my throat, "I… I-I…"  
The gun clicked.  
"I don't know!" Like vomit, the words fell from my mouth, "He left me outside and he drove away, d-didn't tell me nothing, I swear! I swear!"  
He gave a slow nod, as if considering my words, "You must understand that if you don't tell me, he will only suffer more. You both will…"  
"I don't know!" I screamed, tears spilling uncontrollably down my cheeks, "I swear I don't! You have to believe me, please! Please!"  
A smirk began to form on his pale lips; he began stepping closer and closer towards me. I felt his leg brush against me, the cold end of the gun pressed against the moist flesh of my forehead. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I was frozen solid save the unstoppable stream of tears and sweat. "Such a pretty boy…" I heard him whisper, the gun tracing along the side of my cheek, resting softly against my lower lip, "look at those cheekbones… be a shame if my bullets ruined it…"  
"I don't know where he is!" I screamed louder, "Please, don't hurt him, I'll do anything, a-anything!"  
"… Anything, Steven?"  
"Yes, God yes, anything! Please!"  
The gun lowered slowly, and something softer and warmer brushed against my cheek, "Tell me, Steven. Has Brady fucked you yet?"  
I shook my head, the sick feeling returning to my gut, "No…"  
"Stupid man… to waste such a pretty boy…"  
"Y-you can fuck me…" I whispered, "You can… I-I'll let you do anything to me… just please… please…?"  
"Tempting… so _tempting_… but what is to stop you killing me anyway? I could fuck you, empty your brains all over the floor, bring your head to Brendan myself…"  
"Don't hurt Brendan!" I screamed, "Please, I'm begging you… take me, take me instead!"  
The hand slowly left my cheek, "What are you offering me, young Steven?"  
I swallowed, unable to believe these words were leaving my mouth, "A-anything. I'll do anything you want, anything… anytime…"  
"… I'm listening…."  
"If… I let you fuck me… use me… I'll be anything, I'll do anything and I won't argue and I won't put up a fight. I-I know you could fuck me anyway, b-but I promise you I will fight. I will kick, scream, fight so hard and never stop. You can kill me, but what use am I then?"  
"… And in return, I give you..?"  
"Your word that you won't hurt Brendan, or do anything to hurt him." Overwhelmed by my determination to save Brendan, I felt a sort of courage I'd never felt before. "You won't hurt him, his friends or his family. You will leave him alone, and in return… _I'll be yours_…"  
Walker began to pace before me, "I hope you understand what you're offering me, Steven. If I need a nice mouth around my cock at three in the morning, you must be there. If I need an innocent little face to be a drugs mule that will be you. If I have to pleasure a room full of… business partners, I expect you there on the dot, on your knees with your mouth open. Do I make myself clear, Steven?"  
I nodded, "Yes."  
"… You have one week, Steven. One week to prove your loyalties to me. If you do this, you will become my slave, and Brendan will be allowed to live. If I do not wish to keep you, or you dare to disobey me… I'll kill you both."  
"I understand." I said, though my insides were turning to water.

_How could this be happening, why was this happening, dear God, what did I ever do_?  
"Good boy, Steven. This is going to be the start of something…" he dropped to a whisper, "_beautiful_…"

A fist collided hard with my face. There was a flash of pain, and I sank into darkness once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note: Hello :) Sorry this chapter is super super short but by the looks of things I won't get to update it again for a while and I literally only had enough time to write this. It's either short and good or long and rushed, sorry guys :( I feel bad because you're all so lovely and pretty :(**  
**Questions!**  
**How come Brendan switches between you and ye when he talks?: I've been paying very close attention to Brendan during his final episodes *sound of my heart breaking plays in the background* And I've noticed he seems to switch between them quite a lot depending on what he's been saying.

For the next nine hours I slipped in and out of consciousness. I'd wake up, be sick and then dragged back under, Walker's glare and evil smirk plaguing my sleep. In my dreams, he was touching me, and wherever he touched, millions of tiny insects would crawl all over my skin. In other dreams, he was hurting Brendan, he was screaming for help but my feet were rooted to the spot. I couldn't help him, Walker was going to kill him. I'd find myself trapped in that awful limbo between dreams and reality, where I had no control and couldn't escape.

I don't know how long this went on for before I finally woke up without vomiting.

I was back in the spare room, with Brendan leaning over me, an ice cold flannel pressed gently against my forehead.  
"Steven... Steven, it's me! Steven?" he was asking.

His voice seemed so distant that I could barely hear him over the pounding in my head, "B-B... Bren..."  
"Yeah, yeah it's me, Steven. I'm here, I'm right here, Steven."  
I heard another voice, "Oh, God, is he alright, Bren? Oh, babe..."  
"He's fine, Cheryl, it's just the flu." Brendan was saying, dabbing my neck with the flannel.  
"Oh, God, as if he didn't have enough going on..." Cheryl sighed, "I-I'll go put the kettle on..."  
"Fine..." When she'd left the room, Brendan helped me sit up slightly, "Do you feel sick again?"  
I shook my head slowly, "No..." I looked up at him, "B-Bren? Brendan? W-what are you... how... W-where's Walker!"  
"Shh..." He hushed, "Steven... Jesus, Steven, I'm so sorry... This was never supposed to happen..."  
"Wh-why are you here..." I asked, every word felt like sandpaper against my throat.  
"That's not important. Did he hurt ye? Tell me if he did, please..."  
I shook my head, "No... I dunno... don't think so... don't remember..."  
He sighed, "Look, Steven... it's over. He's not coming back, ever, I promise."  
"W-what?"  
He then proceeded to tell me what happened after I was knocked unconscious.

Brendan had received a phone call from Walker at about 3am, with instructions to meet him if he ever wanted to see me alive again (he didn't tell me where). He has no idea how Walker got his number, but he went straight there. When he arrived, Walker turned the gun on him. He opened his boot to reveal me, unconscious and bloody. He'd demanded for him to let me go.  
Walker said that there were no hard feelings between then anymore. He'd have exactly the same thing in his position. He'd leave Brendan alone as long as he never tried to work in the drugs or the smugglers business ever again. The house being trashed and me being kidnapped was just to prove exactly what he was capable of. He made Brendan take me from the boot and then drove away.

He had no idea.

None of this made any sense. How the hell did he get his number, and if it was so easy, why the hell did he kidnap me in the first place? My head was swimming with so many questions, I was beginning feel queasy again.  
"S-so... he's not coming back?"  
"No, Steven." He brushed the hair from my face, his touch was soft and tender, "He'll never hurt ye again, I swear it. I'll kill him myself if he does."  
That pushed me over the edge. I heaved forward, anything left in my stomach was emptied out into a conveniently placed bucket. Brendan rubbed my back as I hurled, "That's right, get it up, Steven. Better out then in, eh?"  
I groaned over the bucket, my stomach and throat burning, "S-sorry..." I mumbled.  
"No. Don't you dare, Steven. Don't you dare blame yourself. Don't yeh ever, _ever_ blame yourself."

When the queasy feeling subsided, Brendan helped me lie down again, cooling my forehead and wiping around my mouth with the flannel. I didn't want the nightmares to come back, but I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

Just as I was sinking into sleep, I heard Brendan whisper to me, "I'll never let anybody hurt ye, Steven. Never again... I'd die before I let him near ye again." I didn't think he knew I could hear him, "You are... the most important thing in my life, Steven. I'll never let Walker take yeh away from me."

I swear I felt his lips touch my forehead before I went under once more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors note: FOOLED YOU! Update for y'all :D **

Several days had passed before I was able to get up out of bed. It was only a concussion and had worn off by the next day, but Cheryl (who still believed it was the flu) insisted that I got at least three days of bed rest before I went anywhere.

I carefully made my way down the living room, where Cheryl and Brendan sat, tea in hand, staring at the television. They barely noticed me until I sat down.  
"Oh, hey babe. Feel better?" Cheryl asked, giving my hand a squeeze.  
"Yeah, M-must have just been a bug." I told her, glancing over at Brendan, whose gaze still rested on the television.  
The mood in the room seemed very down for some reason, like the day after a funeral. Then I remembered… Saturday… we should have been in Dublin today.  
"Something came for you today, Steven." Said Brendan, gesturing towards the coffee table, "Didn't say who it was from."  
Cheryl leaned forward to pass it me before I could react, "Here, must be a late birthday present."  
It was a small box, wrapped in brown paper. The label read "To Ste, happy birthday."  
Inside was a mobile phone. Not a cheap one, either, a blackberry!  
I opened the box and the phone fell into my hand, "Oh my God!"  
Cheryl gave a squeal, "Oh, babe! Who sent it?"  
"I-I don't know…" I checked the box all over, "It doesn't say…"  
Brendan was studying me carefully, "Steven… do you have any friends who would send you this?"  
I thought carefully. Doug, from school, had mentioned something about being sent a phone by mistake "Not sure… Doug maybe…"  
"Doug?"  
"Yeah. He's my mate. He said that someone sent him a phone by mistake and he couldn't return it.."  
Brendan nodded slowly, "Okay, Steven. I believe you."  
He didn't seem very convinced.  
To be honest, neither was I. Why would Doug send me a phone he could just as easily have sold? But who else would spend that much money for a phone for me? My mum? The Queen would send me her crown before that happened.

We watched TV for about an hour, while I studied the phone's many different applications I'd probably never use. Cheryl broke the silence with a loud clap,  
"Right, let's not sit around moping all weekend, eh? Let's go out for lunch, on me!" She gave Brendan's knee a slap, "Get up, Bren, get dressed, both of you!"  
I'd had nothing but soup and dry bread for the past three days, so who was I to argue. "Thanks, Aunt Cheryl!"  
"Shush, you, you guys both need a treat." She grinned, ushering me upstairs.

I stood by my bed, fiddling with the phone, wondering why I'd need such an expensive phone for about five contacts when a call came through from an unknown number.  
Confused but curious, I accepted and pressed the phone to my ear, "Er… hello?"  
"Hello, Steven. Remember me?" came a cold, horribly familiar voice from the other end.  
The phone almost slipped from my grip, "… No…"  
"Thought you'd gotten rid of me, huh? We made a deal, young Steven. I've been keeping my end, so far…"  
"P-please…" I stammered, my heart hammering in my throat.  
"Be quiet, Steven. Somebody may be listening… we won't want anybody finding out about our little arrangement, now would we? Keep it our little secret, won't we?"  
I made a small noise of protest, but kept silent, feeling like I might throw up again.  
"Good boy. That shirt looks really good on you… nice and tight…"  
My legs went weak and I fell down onto the bed, my heart pounding in my ears. I daren't look around.  
"Oh, don't be scared, Steven. I won't hurt you… as long as you do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"  
I nodded.  
"Good boy."  
My skin crawled.  
"You're going to put down the phone, take off your shirt, nice and slowly… and pick up the phone again."  
I let the phone slip from my fingers as I rose shakily to my feet. I wanted to be sick, I wanted to break down in tears, I wanted to run to Brendan and let him hold me and tell me everything will be okay like he used to. But I wasn't a child anymore, I couldn't rely on Brendan. Not anymore… now, Brendan was relying on me, and he didn't even know that the little boy crying from the burned hand was the only thing between him and death. The reality was staggering, and it was all I could do to keep myself from falling.  
I felt the weight of Walker's gaze, where ever it was coming from, resting on me as gripped the ends of my shirt. I wanted to yank it off and get it over with, but I remembered, slowly…  
As the cold air touched my skin it felt like ants, making me feel itchy, dirty. As the shirt fell to the floor I felt the cold nipping at my arms and chest. I brought the phone back to my ear; I could hear Walker's breathing, loud and heavy.  
"Very good, Steven. Are you cold? Nod if you are."  
I nodded.  
"I can tell… your nipples are so hard, are they hard, Steven?"  
I gave a jerky nod.  
"Yeah… I like that." There was a long pause of heavy breathing, "… I'll let you get dressed now, Steven. After you've had your little meal, tell them you're meeting a friend. You're going to go to the park and you're going to get into the back of the silver car. If there is anyone with you, any police, or you don't show, you and Brendan will die tonight. And Cheryl too. Understand?"  
I choked down a sob which was lodged in my throat, nodding as a tear fell.  
"See you later, Steven." Walker whispered down the phone, followed by a dial tone.

"Steven!" Cheryl's voice from downstairs made me jump violently, dropping the phone, "Are you ready yet? You know how Bren gets when he's hungry, love."  
"Coming!" I called down, "Just… a few mimutes!"  
"Is everything okay, pet?"  
"Y-yeah… everything is fine… I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

I don't remember how I kept that meal down. I felt as if I could bring it up again at any minute.

The atmosphere at the Dog in the Pond was perfectly relaxed, but the slightest disruption of the peace sent my stress levels rocketing. My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow the bacon and cheese burger I'd ordered, which while normally my favourite tasted like cardboard in my mouth.  
Cheryl nattered away, barely stopping to swallow, while Brendan made the occasional noise of agreement.

I managed to eat half the burger and a good portion of the chips, muttering something about meeting Doug to say thanks. Cheryl fussed about me being outdoors, but Brendan managed to calm her down.

I wanted to bottle it and run home, hide in my room and pretend that none of this was real.  
With every step the air turned thicker, colder, filling my lungs like foam. All the while I could ask only one question; why me? Why did I have to have to be the result of a teenage girl being raped, why did I have to be the reason my mother began drinking herself to death, why did I have to be the one Brendan saved? Why couldn't I have a chance? A chance to be happy, normal… born into a loving family who would be the ones protecting me from the monsters?

When the park came into view, I knew it was too late to turn back. I just couldn't… I couldn't live with myself if Brendan was killed by that man. He'd done so much for me, and now it was my turn to return the favour. Somehow, the idea of letting this man die, of living without him, caused me such a horrific amount of physical and mental pain that I was prepared to do anything to keep him alive.

Surely this is how everyone feels about their father figures… or so I believed.

When I reached the park, I couldn't see a silver car. My heart gave tiny little leaps, my childish hope dangling the illusion of freedom before me. Just when I was about to leave, a black car pulled up beside me, the passenger side opening. A man I didn't recognise was sat in the driver's seat, aiming a gun at me. "Get in. If there's anyone following, you die."  
When I got in, someone behind me wrapped a blindfold around my eyes, blocking off all my vision.

I lost track of time, but I remember the journey feeling endless.

Soon enough, the car came to a stop. I was pulled out of the car and guided in various directions, the cold metal of the gun pressed softly against the back of my neck. The ground became softer, the air slightly warmer, and I knew I was inside.  
I was shoved down onto my knees, a door clicking shut behind me. I heard a key turn.  
My body was shivered despite the warmth of the indoors.  
"Steven…" His voice came from somewhere in the room, "I'm very proud of you. Did you like my little gift?"  
I wanted to die, "… What do you want me to do?"  
"Now, Steven, you're a big boy…" His footsteps grew closer, "I'm sure you can figure it out."  
"I-I'm only doing this to save Brendan…"  
"Oh, Steven… I don't care." His fingers pulled off the blindfold, "You're mine now, Steven. And now that I have you… I don't think I'll ever let you go."

The next few hours were complete torture. I don't remember most of it, I just shut my eyes, pretended it wasn't happening, tried to shut my mind down. All I remember were calloused fingers scratching against my skin, forcing themselves in unwanted areas, everything was agony and humiliation and filth. I'd never forget that pain. Imagine tearing flesh soaked in sulphur.  
When he was done with me I was bundled back into the car and driven to the park, where I was left, bruised, shaking and partially bleeding in places. I had no idea how long I'd been gone for, that phone call felt like it was days ago.  
When I made it home I slapped on a smile and made up a story about playing video games at Doug's, careful to hide my cuts and bruises.

I thought I'd collapse before I made it to the bathroom. The sight of the shower running was beautiful. As I tugged off my clothes, I caught a glimpse of my body in the mirror. I couldn't recognise the person staring back at me, but I hated him. Dried blood stained his upper thigh, fingerprint shaped bruises covered his skin, blood seeped from tiny cuts. He was dirty, disgusting, and I couldn't bear to look at him.  
I stepped into the shower, but the water running down my body didn't make me feel better. I turned up the heat, higher and higher, practically emptying a bottle of body wash all over myself. I scrubbed hard, but the dirt wasn't shifting. It clung to my skin. My insides burned, I could feel his seed still in me. The feeling of those fingers… my skin crawled. Millions of insects… everywhere… the water wouldn't move them, they were burying into my flesh.

The water was getting so hot I could barely breathe from the steam.  
I didn't realise I was screaming with pain until someone was hammering on the door.  
"Steven? Steven! Are you okay?!"  
I ignored him, he couldn't see me like this. I was filthy, he'd see the dirt on me, he'd know what I'd done. I kept turning the water higher and higher, the water blistering hot against my skin, but still the dirty clung. It was infusing with my flesh.  
The door flew open and Brendan dragged me out the shower.  
"No!" I screamed. Water was cleansing, Brendan couldn't touch me now, not while I was like this.  
"Steven! What are yeh doing?" He yelled, trying to keep hold of me.  
"Let go! Get off!" I screamed back, trying to fight him off, "No, let me go!"  
"Steven!" He was holding me close against his chest, running his fingers through my damp hair. I couldn't fight him, so I broke down instead. I collapsed against him, sobbing pathetically. My bare flesh was bright red and soaked, but Brendan nor I cared.

He just held me close and I wept like the dirty, pathetic creature I'd become.


	8. Chapter 8

After I'd cried myself exhausted, Brendan carried me to my bed, wrapping a towel around me.  
He sat with me for a while before speaking, "… Are ye ready to talk, Steven"  
I shook my head, "No…"  
"Steven… look at yeh… who did this, Steven?"  
"N-no one… I'm fine, Bren…"  
"No, no Steven, don't lie to me." He pushed a string of hair from my face, "Somebody hurt you, Steven. Tell me who, I'll sort them out…"  
I shook my head again, "I… I got mugged, alright…" suddenly, a story began spilling out of my mouth, "I was coming home and these guys jumped me, they couldn't find my phone… so they beat me up."  
"… Is that the truth, Steven?"  
I nodded, "Yes… I just want to forget it, okay?"  
Brendan didn't speak for a moment, "… Then what were yeh doing trying to boil yehself alive in the shower, then?"  
I paused, "… I don't know."  
Brendan sighed, "If yeh don't tell me… I can't help ye…"  
"Leave me alone!" My voice rose, "You're not my dad so just… stop!"  
"… I never thought I was your dad… I never want to be…"  
"Then what are you… what am I to you?"  
"… You are… the single most important thing in my world, Steven." He was looking down, "Look… when I was sixteen I was at this party… your mother was there. She was smart, attractive, had a future. We were friends, well… sort of. I left early, I hated parties. She left about ten… a bunch of guys followed her…"  
I stared at him, I knew my mother had been raped but… this…  
"She found out she was pregnant a few weeks later. She told me… nobody else. Her parents kicked her out and she moved into this council house. The one she lives in now. I… didn't hear from her for years. I found her address… went to see how she was and… found you." He exhaled deeply, "I felt responsible… so I took you in."  
I couldn't find my voice for several moments, "… S-so… I'm just… I'm your guilty burden, is that it?"  
"No, Steven, no. I never thought of you like that. I brought you in as a favour to your mother, but… then you grew up, and… I just can't imagine life without yeh, Steven." He turned to meet my gaze, "Steven… I love yeh."  
I sighed softly, "I know… in a father-son… weird kind of way, right?"  
He shook his head, "No, Steven…" He whispered.  
I barely had time to respond before Cheryl's footsteps came hammering up the stairs, "Guys? I heard crying…" She walked in and gasped, "Oh, Ste! Babe, what happened to you!"  
"He had a nasty fall in the shower, Cheryl." Brendan explained, "Didn't ye?"  
I nodded.  
"Oh, love, I really must put down a mat in there. Do you know how many times I've almost fallen in there? Almost three!" She exclaimed as she left the room, muttering about mats and something inaudible.  
When she was out of earshot I turned back to Brendan, "You… lied…"  
"You'll tell me the truth when you're ready, Steven." He said as he stood, "I've got to go, meeting a supplier."  
I stared at him, "You… you can't just leave! Just say that, a-and leave!"  
"You know what happened to your mother, Steven."  
"Not that…"  
He sighed, "Life is too short to dwell on the small things, Steven. Try not to over think everything." And with that he was gone, and I didn't see him again for the rest of the weekend.

Monday came and school started as normal. Cheryl had to drive me as Brendan was sleeping off an apparent hangover.  
First lesson was English… with Doug.  
He dropped his bag and sat down next to me, "Hey, Ste. Not heard from you in a week! How was your birthday?"  
Doug was probably the only person in the whole school he seemed to vaugly like me. By default that made him my best friend, "Yeah, alright, thanks."  
"Y-yeah, so, erm… I was meaning to ask you if you were planning on… you know, d-doing anything for it?"  
"Nowt planned."  
"Well… why don't we do something? After school?"  
I stared at him, "My birthday was a week ago…"  
"Call it a late present, then."  
"Are… are you asking me out?"  
He grinned, "So… what if I am?"  
I blinked, "Wow."  
"Wow what?"  
"You?"  
"Yeah."  
"You're…"  
"American?"  
"Doug…"  
"I'm kidding!" He nudged my arm, "Well… I am, yeah. And so are you. We're both single, so… why not?"  
"Why not? How romantic."  
"Shut up." He laughed, "So… you haven't given me an answer…"  
Before I could speak, I felt something vibrating in my pocket. In was my phone, with a call coming through. From an unknown number.  
I gestured to it, "I… I gotta take this…" I explained, rushing out the classroom, ignoring my teacher's protests.  
I pressed the phone to my ear, "Hello?"  
"I don't like the way Brady looks at you, Steven." Came that familiar voice.  
"… What do you mean?" I asked shakily.  
"Don't tell me you can't see it… I've been observing you all very closely. That look… he just wants to throw you against the wall and fuck you bloody."  
"No… he doesn't." I protested, though my heart was giving weird little leaps, "Brendan doesn't see me like that."  
"Are you arguing with me?"  
"No…"  
"Good boy. There's a car outside, go get into it."  
"I… I can't… I'm in school!"  
"You're arguing with me…"  
"N-no, I'm…" I stammered, checking the corridor, "… okay, I'll be there…"  
"Good boy." He hung up.

As I stumbled home, pain radiating from between my legs, my gaze was once again drawn towards my mum's house. So, she knew where I was. She knew, yet she never once even attempted to contact me. I suppose I couldn't blame her… it was no wonder she hated me. She looked at me, and all she saw was one of those men. Maybe if I'd been a girl… would have things been different? Would I have looked like her or just a female version of one of her attackers?  
But then again… I'd have never met Brendan…  
That struck a chord.  
I couldn't quite understand why, but suddenly… I couldn't get Brendan out of my mind. My feelings towards him hadn't changed but… the way I looked at them had. All this time I looked at him and saw a father, a mentor. But he wasn't. He was my saviour. I thought I saw a father but I hadn't! I saw a saviour, a friend, and… something else which wasn't clear to me until now.  
I couldn't understand why, but I was pretty sure that I was completely in love with Brendan Brady.

Putting on a brave face I eased open the door, "Hello?"  
"Steven?" Brendan rounded a corner into the room, "You're home early."  
"Y-yeah… half day." I lied, "Still hungover?"  
"A little." He shrugged, falling back onto the couch, "Oh, forgot to tell yeh, Cheryl's gone away with Lyndsay for a little 'girls holiday'."  
"Really?" I sat down, very slowly, "When will they be back?"  
"Sunday."  
"Oh…"  
Brendan gave a small grin, "Looks like it's just the two of us."


End file.
